This year's birthday was not as blackout-riddled and face-paint-heavy as my golden birthday. I did, however, receive Guitar Hero III for the Wii (thanks Jester), so I'll see you guys in a few months.
At least it's all downhill from here. When I turned 20, I had hope. The future was wide open, and I planned to mount it like the submissive it was. Now that I'm 30, the hope has been replaced with frantic despair, and I can't get this damn ball gag out of my mouth. With the best days of my life behind me, I'm now pretty much just biding my time until death. I sure hope the next 13 years, 4 months, and 8 days go quickly.
As a nice little extra, absolutely none of my co-workers knew that it was my birthday, not even my assistant (read: secretary who should know these things if she wants to get a good review at the end of the year). I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Several years from now (if, God forbid, I'm still gainfully employed), people at my job are going to be saying, "Man, I can't believe Andrew's still 29. He looks slightly older than that."
My only saving grace is Jay-Z's untested but highly appealing theory that 30 has actually become the new 20. I hope he's right because that means the next decade is going to be another blur. Regardless, turning 30 kind of sucks, mainly because it presents you with a chance to look back on your life and reflect on what little you've accomplished and how everything in your life has changed, particularly since college. Here are some examples:
Then: In college, eating a super steak burrito at 3 a.m. increased my strength, sex appeal, and sense of self-worth.
Now: All a late-night burrito does is increase my gut, gassiness, and sense of shame.
Then: "I can't wait to go to law school."
Now: "Why did I ever go to law school?"
Then: I could do 21 shots over a 5-hour period and make it to my 10:10 class the next morning without a hangover.
Now: I can't even drink 6 liters of beer in 5 hours.
Then: Women flocked to me like fire to a South Carolina college student.
Now: I lie a lot about my past and make horribly inappropriate comments about dead people I don't even know.
Then: I stayed up until 1 or 2 a.m. every night.
Now: I constantly -- and unsuccessfully -- strive to go to bed every night before 10.
Then: I was a 10-second hero.
Now: Ok, so at least now I've improved at one thing, even if only by 10%.
This next decade will prove to be a pivotal one. I can either, in the words of a man in a movie I still haven't seen, "get busy living or get busy dying." With that in mind, before 10/29/17, I hope to have accomplished several things:
- Become horribly jaded and bitter. Oh, wait.
- Plant my vile seed in Jessie's womb several times over and spawn a brood of equally jaded and bitter children with hilarious names and much more athletic talent than I possess.
- Find something to do with my life that I actually enjoy, like developing my own line of male handbags, writing funny things, or aikido.
- Own property somewhere. Anywhere.
- Dress up as 1972 David Bowie from the Ziggy Stardust album for Halloween.
- Freak out in a moonage daydream, oh yeah.
- Learn aikido.
- Form a religion based on the teachings of Jay-Z. I shall call it "Hovanism."
- Coach Permian to seventh state title.
- Finish that godforsaken book I'm writing.
- Continue to avoid SARS.
- Attend at least 9 bowl games in which IU is a participant.
- In a second, tell-all book, finally come clean about rampant use of performance-enhancing and psychedelic drugs during Pi Kapp soccer B team's dominating run to the 1999 Division II intramural championship, naming names and recounting team's weekly post-game steroid-and-mescaline-riddled orgies with the team's many loyal groupies, colloquially known as The Cleatorises, or "The Cleats" for short.
- Get a few more tattoos.
- To keep things weird, for every birthday from here on out, refer to self only in the third person and only as Ace Frehley, whether or not I am dressed up like Ace Frehley
- Form and manage -- but not play in -- at least one different tribute (not cover, tribute) band each year, including, but not limited to:
- Eyrrhowsmydd (an all-Welsh Aerosmith tribute)
- ApothoCarey (an all-pharmacist tribute to Mariah Carey)
- My Michele (a Guns N' Roses tribute featuring only women and Italian men named Michele)
- Queen Bitch (a drag tribute to 1971 David Bowie from the Hunky Dory album)
- She's Tight (an all-preteen-female tribute to Cheap Trick)
- Gimme Danger Little Stranger (an all-convicted-child-molester tribute to The Stooges that will not be performing on the same bill as She's Tight despite repeated requests)
- Search and Destroy (an all-father-of-preteen-females tribute to The Stooges that will not be performing on the same bill as Gimme Danger Little Stranger despite repeated requests)
- Durwalk Durwalk (an easy-listening tribute to Duran Duran)
- Thin Lezzy (an all-lesbian tribute to Thin Lizzy)
- Once Burned to Death in a Pyrotechnic Night Club Disaster Twice Shy (tribute to Great White)
- Mega Mini Kiss (a full-size tribute to Mini Kiss).
- Build a really sweet treehouse.
- Develop a much better metabolism through weight lifting, interval training, and unabashed bulimia.
- Go to Oktoberfest a few more times.
- Post future Oktoberfest recaps within one month of going to Oktoberfest. (FYI, the next installment will be along in a couple days because I am going to a concert tomorrow night.)
- Continue to live in complete denial of my constant aging by acting like I'm in my 20s as often as humanly possible.
- Throw like a ton of raging keggers.
- Continue blogging, so as keep you all painfully informed as to my descent and concomitant denial, but do so in a way that will not depress the shit out of you.
- Avoid using the word "concomitant," whilst increasing usage of the word "whilst."
- Overcome paralyzing fear of time.
- Beat death for a fourth decade.